


The Spear of Destiny

by JDGregory



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Archaeology, F/M, Mythology - Freeform, Nazis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:43:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3976795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JDGregory/pseuds/JDGregory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the years before the SSR and Project Rebirth, Agent Peggy Carter is one of the top code breakers working for the British forces. After decoding a strange message sent to Nazi archaeologists, Agent Carter is thrown into an operation headed by none other than the god of mischief himself, Loki of Asgard, who has been stranded powerless on Midgard. His quest- to obtain the legendary Spear of Destiny and regain his former glory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Lightning flashed within the dark clouds on the horizon causing them to flicker as if something in the sky was being awakened by the immense electrical power held within those bolts of energy. It also caused an odd sensation of dread within Wilhelm, though he decided it was simply his displeasure at the thought that he would soon be rained on. Why his deranged brother Dietrich dragged him out into a dark forest in the middle of nowhere to perform some insane ritual was beyond Wilhelm’s understanding.

“Excellent,” Dietrich replied as he gazed up at the ominous sky swirling above them. “In mere moments we will achieve greatness and set in motion the cogs of a machine that will bring about the glory of the Fatherland and the supremacy of the Sons of Arias.”  
“Soon my love,” replied Dietrich’s devoted wife Rosa as she placed her arms around that of her beloved. “The heavens themselves will heed your call and you will be as a god and I your queen.”

“So you keep saying,” Wilhelm replied to Rosa’s insanity. The mad woman shot him a glare of disgust but kept whatever clever retort she had brewing within her to herself. The Archduke Ferdinand of Austria had just been assassinated, the entirety of Europe was on the brink of war, and here they were standing out in a forest clearing about to perform some damned-fool spell of some sort. They were a disgrace to the Eckart family name.

Dietrich had always been a vagrant and a troublemaker, often being expelled from whatever school he was attending. It had only gotten worse when their mother died when they were young. Blaming God and cursing the names of the Saints, Dietrich began looking into the strange cults that had begun to spring up throughout the continent. Soon after their father died, Dietrich gave most of his inheritance to those vagrants and ner-do-wells only to have his mind poisoned further by their insane preaching and beliefs in supposed “secret chiefs” that operated within shadow realms beyond their own. Wilhelm thought it was poppycock but he still loved his brother, in spite of his growing insanity. 

“We must get into position,” said Dietrich with urgency as he kneeled down before the strange white circle of lines and symbols he had created.  
As he and Rosa knelt down as well Wilhem began to take a closer look. Drawn in white paint, the circle itself was roughly 10ft in diameter with an eight-pointed star in the middle. Along the various lines that constituted the shape were strange runes and alphabets, some of which Wilhelm recognized such as those of the Jews and those of the ancient Nordic peoples. The ones he was not familiar with were strange and looked arcane like those found in old books of medieval alchemy which he has seen Dietrich studying from time to time.

“Now,” Dietrich continued. “Do as I do.”

His brother placed his hands within the outside line of the circle and closed his eyes, deep in some sort of thought. Wilhelm assumed he was trying to “free his mind” to contact his secret chiefs. Rosa imitated the actions of her husband and Wilhelm simply sighed, shook his head at the audacity of it all, and then did the same. When he did so he felt the rumblings of thunder that no doubt had followed another flash of lightning.

“We beseech thee Wotan,” Dietrich called out from below the thunder. “Lord of the One Eye, hear our call. Bestow upon us a boon of your glory by which we may bring order from the chaos of humanity.”

After a few silent moments Wilhelm’s brother repeated his plea into the beyond followed by more silence. The events repeated themselves a few more times before he opened his eyes. Dietrich was still trying with much fervor and concentration to summon something and all Wilhelm felt was pity for his brother.

Before Wilhelm could speak his mind though, the unthinkable occurred. The white paint of the arcane circle began to glow a faint white and then turned a blood curdling red color. The crashing thunder in the sky caused him to tear his gaze from the otherworldly sight and on to another of perhaps more ominous dread. The dark clouds above, pulsing with lightning within, began to spiral and spin into a shape reminiscent of the funnel clouds that belong to strong tornadoes. 

A flash of power that seemed to come from everywhere at once struck the arcane circle and sent Wilhelm hurtling away from his position and into a nearby brush.   
It took several moments for his mind to register what had just happened and for his eyes to adjust from being blinded by the sudden crash of light. Slowly, he crawled from out of the brush and stood up, sweeping the twigs and small leaves from his tweed jacket as he did so.

When Wilhelm gazed upon where the circle had been drawn there remained a swirling mass of dark clouds, pulsing with light, just as had been in the sky moments ago. His brother and Rosa had also appeared to have been thrown into nearby bushes and had only begun to regain their composure. 

Curious, Wilhelm slowly walked towards the swirling mass to inspect it further. Had the unthinkable happened? Had Dietrich actually summoned an otherworldly power into the realms of men? His rational mind argued that it could not be so, yet, here stood a powerful piece of evidence to the contrary. 

As Dietrich and Rosa finally found their places to either side of Wilhelm, a shadowy image began to manifest itself with the clouds.

“Mighty Wotan,” declared Dietrich as he went to his knees and began to prostrate himself before whatever force stood before them. Rosa did the same but Wilhelm did not. He could only stand transfixed on the ominous shadow. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” said a beguiling voice with a strange elegance from the swirling mass as the visage of a strange man emerged. He wore tattered robes of green and gold that appeared to have been recently ripped rather than ragged by age. Atop his head he wore a golden helmet of a sort with elongations on the fore-crown which appeared to have once been curved horns that had been broken off, leaving the remainder of uneven stumps behind. Under the crown was a terribly handsome face with the smile of the devil. “The All-Father could not make it tonight. Alas, tonight you shall have to contend with Loki.”


	2. Daughter of Britannia

“What a bloody mess,” said Peggy aloud as she gazed on the state of her desk. Having just returned from making a pot of coffee down the hall she found the area, which had been tidy minutes ago, now full of random papers that she was expected to file away. Just another task in a long line of unofficial secretarial duties that the men in the office had assigned to her for simply being a woman. 

“Sure Agent Carter,” she said to herself. “You are one of the top code breakers of the Government Code and Cypher School, fluent in several languages both dead and living, highly trained for physical combat and an excellent marksman. Oh, you have breasts! Be a dear and make the coffee then file this for me would you?”  
She sighed and took a seat at her desk, gazing at the aged, colorless, photograph next to her typewriter. A young girl of thirteen in a long skirt wearing an explorer’s pith helmet stood among desert ruins with her arm around the waste of a much older man with a mustache. He wore light trousers and a white shirt. It had been many years since the picture was taken- on one of her summer adventures among the pharaohs with her Uncle Howard. Even at that young age Peggy had mastered ancient Egyptian. Now she had mastered the art of a fine breakfast blend with rationed coffee beans. 

Peggy took the mess of papers on her desk into her hands, and without giving them a glance, put them on the large pile of work that she refused to do for other people until she had given her own the attention that it deserved. In her own meager pile of work she had a few fascinating messages in German codes to break. Her superiors tended to throw the more difficult work in Peggy’s direction to either keep her occupied with codes they knew she had no chance of breaking or simply because they didn’t feel like attempting. She usually broke them but her superiors ended up getting all of the credit for it. It annoyed Peggy to no end but she was satisfied with the knowledge that she was helping to defend King and Country. 

A particular bit of paper caught her eye. It was an intercepted message in a German code she had only seen on one other occasion- when she had cracked it several months ago. It had appeared to be a correspondence from a covert Nazi archaeology unit encoded using a strange numerical substitution with a unique combination of Viking runes and Egyptian hieroglyphs. If Peggy remembered correctly, the unit had been a part of the SS historical studies division called Ahnenerbe- Ancestral Inheritance.

She quickly went about deciphering the message. After quite a bit of time using the cracking method she had developed, Peggy had something that resembled a brief report of a team’s goings on.

Sir. We have found two more of the Keys of Siegfried. Soon we will have the Sacred Spear. We await your arrival. Heil Hitler.  
Peggy read over the message several times trying to make sense of it but she could not make heads or tails of it. Before she took the cryptic message to her supervisor, Peggy thought it best that she consult an expert- her cousin Nathaniel. An expert in ancient history as well as the occult and other arcane lore, he was currently serving as an officer in a special intelligence unit assigned to keeping track of some of the Nazi’s more unorthodox pursuits.  
Peggy picked up the phone on her desk, and after several minutes of connections across the London military network, she was speaking to Nathaniel.

“You’ve reached Lieutenant Carter,” said the voice on the other end of the receiver.

“Hello Nathaniel,” Peggy replied. “It’s Peggy. It’s been far too long since we’ve talked.”

“Peg!” her cousin exclaimed. “It’s good to hear your voice. How’s the code breaking business?”

“That’s why I’m calling.”

“I knew it,” Nathaniel replied with mock defeat. “It can never be simply to talk to your cousin once in a while.”  
“Forgive me,” Peggy replied. “We will have to have Tea sometime soon. I just decrypted a pretty cryptic message and I need your advice.”

“Let’s have a go then.”

“It would seem that a Nazi archaeology unit is in possession of some items called the Keys of Siegfried and are searching for something called the Sacred Spear.”

“Did you say ‘Keys of Siegfried’ and ‘Sacred Spear’”? Nathaniel sounded as if he didn’t believe her, or perhaps was alarmed by it.

“I did,” was all Peggy replied with.

“Bring the message to our offices immediately,” ordered her cousin. “I will make sure you have the proper clearance.” He hung up without giving Peggy the chance to protest.

Peggy sighed and put on her coat. It was going to be a long journey from the code breaking offices at Bletchley Park to London. As she did not know exactly how this meeting was going to turn out she opted to not inform her supervisor. 

OOO

Though a part of the Secret Intelligence Service, the division to which Nathaniel belonged apparently had their offices in an old building in Fleet Street. Peggy had once met him a few months back at a pub next door called the Ye Olde Cock. The mint lamb pie had been excellent. 

Peggy went to open the door but was surprised to find it locked. She found a small intercom and held the button before saying “Hello.” 

“Can I help you?” said the kindly voice of woman from the com.”

“My name is Margret Carter,” she replied. “I am an agent with the Code and Cipher School. I have a meeting with Lieutenant Nathaniel Carter.”

She was quickly buzzed in and Peggy entered into the building. She was quickly met by a woman a few years older, most likely the department assistant or perhaps another well-trained agent who just happened to be considered a secretary.

“They’ve been expecting you,” said the woman before leading Peggy through s series of confusing hallways. She then opened a door into a boardroom where several men of varying ages and ranks appeared to be discussing something very important.

“Thank you Miss-,” said Peggy with a smile. “I didn’t catch you name.”

“Brackenbury,” she replied with a smile. “Agent Pandora Brackenbury.”

“Thank you Agent Brackenbury.”

“If you are quite ready,” said Nathaniel from within the room. “Dr. Laurence has been eager to see the message.”

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” said Peggy as she took the message from her attaché case and held it out. “It is a long journey from Buckinghamshire.” She was not all together concerned how long she had made these old stuff-shirts wait for her arrival. Her cousin had given her quite little notice after all.

“The apology should be ours,” said the cool yet elegant voice of a man from the corner of the room that Peggy had not seen when she walked in. He was quite handsome, if not devilishly so, and held himself in such a manner as the spoiled son of a nobleman might. He wore a dark grey suit with a green tie. This man was no doubt the son of a lord who held himself in high regard. “My name is Dr. Edgar Laurence, a specialist in service to Ambrosia.”

“Ambrosia?” asked Peggy, confused.

“Our department,” replied Nathaniel. “The Order of Abrosius- named for the staff of Merlin. Although centuries old, the order was integrated into Special Intelligence during the Great War. Now the department is usually just called Ambrosia.”

“Merlin?” said Peggy aloud. It wasn’t a question as more of a sound of disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly,” replied Dr. Laurence as he took the piece of paper which Peggy still held in her hand before reading it for himself. “This confirms it. Those cretins are close to obtaining the spear.

“What spear?” asked Peggy, curious. She found herself taking liberties with her questions. She was still rather confused after all. 

“The Spear of Destiny,” replied Nathaniel. 

“You mean the spear that supposedly pieced the side of Jesus Christ while he was on the cross?”

“Not quite Miss Carter,” Dr. Laurence replied. “It is common misconception apparently. What you are referring to is in fact called the Holy Lance and I believe it lays somewhere in the bowels of the Vatican. The Spear of Destiny is a weapon much more ancient and powerful.”

“Forgive my ignorance,” said Peggy with a hint of sarcasm. “Enlighten me if you would be so kind.”

“As you wish,” said Laurence with a half grin before taking a seat at the head of the long table and offered Peggy the chair to his left. She took a seat along with the others in the room. In front of each of them was a dossier folder containing various files and pictures. Laurence opened his folder and began to speak.

“Also known as the Gae Bolg or the Spear of Lugh, the ancient Celts believed the weapon to have been wielded by the gods and as such used it as a totem and symbol of kingship. Legends of the spear’s power eventually reached the Roman Republic. With an eye to conquer, Julius Caesar raised an army and marched north through the Gallic lands in search of the weapon, eventually making his way to Britannia. Unfortunately for Caesar, the spear’s power proved too much for him and his forces were defeated by the Britons.

“Caesar Augustus saw the folly in pursuing the weapon and instead consolidated his power through new laws meant to bring about a Pax Romana. His successors, however, were not as wise and the emperor Claudius once again invaded Britain in search of the Spear. While he was successful in subduing the Britons, he did not find the weapon. It would not appear until some years later when Queen Boudicca wielded it in battle during her rebellion against the Empire. Though a powerful leader and commander, Boudicca was betrayed by those who sought the wealth and favor of Rome. The Gae Bolg was given to the Roman general Agricola as a trophy in honor of his victory over the Britons. Agricola chose to keep the Spear hidden within a treasure complex beneath the new villa he had built for himself in Britannia and there is rested for roughly two centuries until the emperor Constantine came into possession of it. Constantine used the power of the spear to defeat his enemies and bring a spirit of unity back to a divided empire before laying it to rest in a vault in his first capitol, the city now known as Milan, and there is stayed until the time of Charlemagne.”

“Who I’m sure used the power of the Spear of Destiny to consolidate his power and rule as Holy Roman Emperor,” interrupted Peggy. She was growing tired of the history lesson. “So you mean to say that the Nazis are trying to find this ancient spear? And this matters how? It isn’t as if the thing truly has some sort of power within it. That’s just superstitious poppycock.”

“Miss Carter,” replied Laurence with a condescending smile. “You are a well educated and highly intelligent woman. I sense that there is a wisdom within you well beyond your years. Surely you can consent to the possibility that forces exist beyond the human understanding of science and reason. Human beings have believed in such notions as deities, magic, and the like since the first one gained the ability to contemplate such things countless ages in the past. To simply dismiss those beliefs because a handful of men over the past century said they were delusions…Well, that is simply delusional.”

“I am a woman of reason sir,” Peggy replied. She found herself looking quite intently into the man’s piercing green eyes. They made her feel uneasy yet she did not want to look away.

Laurence continued his condescending smile though something seemed off. The man looked pained, as if he were straining to achieve something. Sweat began to accumulate on his brow.

“Then I shall be a woman of reason as well,” he said finally and his words left Agent Carter quite perplexed. Within moments the visage of Dr. Laurence became blurred and distorted, as if only parts of her eyes were in deep need of spectacles. It was over as quickly as it began and Dr. Edgar Laurence was no longer sitting at the head of the table. He had been replaced by an elegant woman wearing a dark green dress with a mantle of fur over her shoulders. On her head of thick raven hair she wore a golden headband of sorts in the style of a flapper. When Peggy’s eyes fully adjusted she could see that the woman held the same condescending smile as Dr. Laurence but the face was that of Agent Carter herself. 

“Please forgive the ruse Miss Carter,” said her elegant doppelganger before standing up. “Let me properly introduce myself. I am Loki, son of Odin and agent of Asgard.” As the woman bowed her head and held a fist to her chest in a type of greeting the image contorted again to that of the previous man, though wearing an otherworldly green robed outfit with accents of gold. He brought his head up slightly to look at Agent Carter with a playful yet devilish grin. “Some have also titled me the god of mischief.”

“Bullocks,” said Peggy aloud before she felt her head spin and her vision go black


	3. Son of Asgard

To his surprise, Loki found himself rushing to Agent Carter’s side as she was about to fall from her chair. It was unlike him.

As he held the unconscious human woman in his arms the god of mischief took in the softness of the skin of her face that touched his neck and the scent of her perfume. He had walked among the glorious halls of Asgard, had known many elegant ladies of the Aesir, yet Loki found the fragrance of this lowly Midgardian intoxicating. It alarmed him and he immediately sat her upright in her chair.

To her credit, Agent Carter began to rouse herself back to consciousness almost immediately. 

“I can’t believe I fainted,” she said, more to herself, while shaking her head.

“I would have doubted your sanity if you hadn’t Peg,” said Nathaniel from across the table. “It’s not every day that the world you thought you knew explodes and is put back together with crazy glue in a matter of moments.”

“Loki,” said Major Benedict, one of the higher ranking officers, with annoyance. “I thought we had agreed to keep your identity a secret for the time being.”

“I was growing bored of Dr. Laurence,” the god of mischief replied. “It was much more entertaining to watch the lady’s reasonable beliefs be torn asunder.”

“Loki of Asgard,” she said aloud to herself and then fixed her eyes in his direction. She didn’t look confused but rather appeared to be attempting to piece together a complex puzzle of logic inside of her mind. “What’s your game?”

Her words troubled him. She could not be that astute could she?

“The game Agent Carter,” Benedict answered. “Is described on page two of your dossier.”

Miss Carter, along with everyone else at the table, opened their folders too look over the files. Loki didn’t see the need and simply waited for the explanation.

“Are you familiar with a man named Dietrich Eckart, Agent Carter?” the major asked.

“One of the co-founders of the original Nazi Party and formally one of Adolf Hitler’s most trusted advisors,” Miss Carter replied while looking over the file on Eckart.

“He was also one of the leading members of the Thule Society- a group of Nazi occultists who believed they were the heralds of a new glorious age of the Aryan race and looked to Hitler as their prophesized Germanic messiah. He died before he could see the reality of his dreams.”

Loki shook his head. “The Universe has a sense of humor quite more disturbed than my own I dare say.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Agent Carter.

“Most of the problems that the people of Midgard are facing at the moment are partially my fault.” Mostly his fault in reality but it did not matter any longer. 

“Herr Eckart was in the middle of performing a ludicrous ritual meant to call ‘the Nameless One’ into the human realm when I was being sent to Midgard on a mission by the Allfather. Though he didn’t know it, the man’s arcane circle did in fact hold some ancient Asgardian runes which guided my descent towards him and his followers.”

“And then you used the man’s beliefs to manipulate him into serving you,” interrupted Agent Carter.  
Loki smirked.

“What can I say?” he said with a shrug. “Humans are eager to serve those with true power.” The woman did not appear to be amused and Loki found his grin fading. “To make a dreadfully long story short, I attempted to use Eckart and his followers to complete my mission. In the process I was betrayed and most of my power was stolen from me. I also inadvertently sowed the beliefs that gave rise to the Third Reich.”

“And I assume your mission involved the Spear of Destiny,” said Agent Carter.

Loki smiled at the woman’s intuition. He could make great use of this one.

“Indeed,” he replied. “I was sent by the Allfather in search of Gungnir- what you know as the Spear of Destiny. It was lost in battle many ages ago when the Asgardians fought a great war against the Tuatha Dé Danann, a people much like our own that once ruled these islands you now call Britannia. Their king, Lugh, fought Odin in a single combat trial by champion and the Allfather was defeated. Lugh took Gungnir as his prize of victory and the Asgardians went home to their realm. The majority of the spear’s history has already been told to you.”

“What about the keys of Siegfried?” asked Agent Carter.

“I was just getting to that,” said Loki a bit annoyed. “Like most Allfathers of legend, Odin was not always faithful to my mother and from time to time would have liaisons with human women. At times this would result in certain ‘inconvenient’ offspring. One such half-sibling of mine was the lovely Brunhilde.”  
Loki laughed to himself. “Can you believe that Odin locked his own daughter in a tower surrounded by magical flames and protected by a dragon?”

“How generically medieval of him,” replied Agent Carter in a dry tone and Loki smirked. 

“Well, as you know, such situations do often spawn heroic deeds and tragic tales of love. Such was the case with the brave Siegfried, warrior extraordinaire and prince of his realm. He sought the hand of the lovely Brunhilde from her father Odin and the Allfather thought a good way to get rid of the upstart would be to send him on an impossible quest in exchange for his daughter.”

“As one does,” said Carter. “I’m guessing he was sent in search of Odin’s lost spear.”

“Indeed,” Loki continued. “To Odin’s surprise Siegfried’s quest was successful. However, the Allfather betrayed Siegfried and bewitched him to fall in love with another, breaking Brunhilde’s heart. She threw herself from her tower and in death was made a Valkyrie, a shield maiden of Asgard that escorts the glorious dead to Valhalla. The shock broke the spell on Siegfried and he refused Odin the prize of Gungnir, locking the spear away in a magic vault that can only be opened by using the six keys that he had forged in the power of his grief. He had the keys scattered across all of Midgard so that none could ever obtain Odin’s Spear.”

“And now the Nazis are close to obtaining all of the keys and then Gungnir soon after,” said Agent Carter. “So what does all of this have to do with me?”  
It was the major who answered. “We need you to continue to monitor for these types of messages.”

“I don’t think so major,” Loki interrupted while his eyes rested on Miss Carter. “We cannot waste such a talented and intuitive mind in an office.” He stood from his chair and extended his hand out to her to take in a grand gesture. “Agent Maggie Carter of Midgard, you are going to help me thwart the Nazis and obtain the Spear of Destiny.”

“My name is Peggy,” she replied, but Loki didn't hear her.

Soon he would return to Asgard the hero instead of the villain.


	4. The First Key

“You know,” said Peggy. “For a supposed ancient god you can drive an automobile rather well.”

Loki smirked at her comment but didn’t take his gaze from the road ahead. “I have been stranded on Midgard for over two decades now. If I can successfully drive my brothers chariot, which is drawn by four quite stubborn rams I might add, I can certainly master your primitive means of conveyance.”

“Is that right? I’d certainly like to see that,” she replied with sarcasm. Agent Carter was still quite wary of this man who claimed to be a god of mischief. She had convinced herself that those men of Ambrosia had somehow used some sort of illusory trickery to change the man’s appearance. Pagan god indeed. Despite his boasts, he seemed rather jumpy while driving the car. It was as if he expected it to burst into flames at any moment.

“I would also add that I am not ‘ancient’ by any sense of the word. I’ve not yet reached my thousandth year!”

“Then explain to me how you appear in ancient sagas and the like.”

“The sagas of the Vikings and their ilk are not ancient; they are from the Middle Ages. They are crude by Asgardian standards to be sure but I have enjoyed reading them these past years. Though why they sometimes style me as a god of fire I do not know.”

“Perhaps it is your vibrant personality.”

“Perhaps so,” Loki agreed, not noticing that Peggy was being sarcastic. The man certainly had the ego of a god. 

Peggy decided to change the subject. She needed “Loki” to slip up somehow and blow his cover, as ludicrous as it was. “So explain to me again how the god of mischief was outwitted by a group of crazy German occultists and had his power stolen.”Loki looked uncomfortable with her question and Agent Carter kept herself from smirking at her success.

“They constructed their trap using an ancient Asgardian device that my people had unwittingly left behind during one of their wars. Ekhart acquired it from a colleague some time after I had come into contact with his Thule Society.” Loki took his eyes from the road to look at Peggy. “He had been intending to betray me from the beginning.”

“Sheep,” Peggy replied.

“Quite right you are,” said Loki with a smile. “Stubborn livestock those men were.”

“No,” Peggy protested and pointed to the road. “Sheep!” She grabbed the wheel from Loki just in time to swerve around some sheep that were standing in the road. 

“Forgive me Maggy,” said Loki. “I was distracted by loathing.”

“Just be more careful,” she replied. “And my name is Peggy.”

“Isn’t your name Margaret?”

“Yes but I go by Peggy.”

Loki looked somewhat perplexed and then shook his head. “No, that will not do. Maggy would be more accurate. Your English language makes very little sense.” He sighed. “I miss the days of Middle High German. It made the Nibelungenlied much more bearable to read.”

“Speaking of the heroic Siegfried,” said Peggy, steering the conversation away from her name. “If we are searching for relics of a Germanic hero, why are we driving to Colchester?” She had expected to board a plane in London bound for the Front. Instead, she and Loki had taken a military vehicle bound for Colchester- a city not too incredibly far from the Capitol. 

“Because one of the keys lays hidden there,” Loki replied. “The city was once called Camulodunum.”

“Yes, that was its name during the Roman Period.” Roman Britain had always been one of Peggy’s favorite subjects as a child- until her Uncle Howard introduced her to the more exciting world of Ancient Egypt that is.

“Indeed,” Loki replied. “Siegfried lived during that turbulent period of human history just after the Western Roman Empire fell. He was just one of several barbarian warlords that styled themselves as princes. Following the death of Brunhilde, Siegfried hardened his heart and sought only power. With the Spear of Odin in hand, he and five other warlords ruling in Western Europe formed an alliance against the other barbarian hordes.”

“Some things never change,” said Peggy. Even in these modern times barbarians were forming alliances to defeat and subjugate their enemies and consolidate their power.

“The keys that we seek are in reality six swords- Runeblades that were imbued with the powers of Gungnir and wielded by Siegfried and his brothers-in-arms. The sword that we now seek was wielded by a warlord from Britannia who ruled from Camulodunum- which in the Dark Ages was called Camelot.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Peggy. She laughed at the audacity of it and Loki just looked at her like she was mad.

“I don’t understand your ridicule Ms. Carter,” he replied. “I am being perfectly serious. You said yourself that you knew of Roman Camulodunum.”

“Excalibur!” Peggy exclaimed through her laughter. “The bloody sword of King Arthur? That’s why we are going to Colchester?”

“While I’m quite certain that the sword was coated in a fair amount of blood I fail to understand the humor in our present quest.” Loki continued to look at her as if she were crazy and then shook his head. “The Midardian sense of humor has certainly become strange as of late.”

Peggy shook her head as she began to stop laughing and put a hand to her forehead. What had her fool cousin gotten her into? She wished she had never decoded that bloody message. She was being driven across the Essex countryside by a madman claiming to be the Norse god of mischief and who needed Excalibur to help him steal the Spear of Destiny from the Nazis. Peggy was quite certain that if she were to write this down she could sell the story to those blokes in Hollywood and make a fortune. One could simply not make this sort of thing up. It was madness.

“King Arthur and his Knights of the Roundtable are a myth,” Peggy replied turning to address Loki. “Or had that news not reached Asgard yet?”

Loki looked at her in that condescending way of his when he believed that Peggy had said something idiotic. “Woman, have I not proven to you that myths can be quite real? Even if much of stories and legends are fiction there still remains a kernel of truth within them. My fellow Asgardians and I may not be the immortal deities that hear your prayers and grant miracles, but we are seemingly ageless and powerful beings that live beyond the heavens.” Loki looked at Peggy with that handsome grin of the devil. “Although, we have been known to grant the innermost desires of many Midgardians from time to time.”

“I would thank you not to assume that you know the innermost desires of this Midgardian thank you very much.”

“We shall see,” Loki replied and turned his head back to the road. “Regardless, Arthur Pendragon may not have been the chivalric king of knights that the legends claim him to be; however, he did bring stability to a chaotic sub-Roman Britannia while wielding a magic sword.”

“We shall see,” Peggy replied in a mocking tone. She was still unconvinced by all the madness.

“Indeed we shall,” Loki replied as the two continued on their way to Camelot.

OOO

“Here we are,” said Loki as he stopped the automobile in the car park then proceeded to get out.

“Colchester Castle?” Peggy replied as she too exited the vehicle. “You think King Arthur built Colchester Castle?”

“No,” Loki replied. “William the Conqueror and his Norman hordes built this castle. What we seek lies under it.”

A short time later, after flashing various credentials in the direction of guards and officials, Loki and Peggy were allowed to enter portions of the bowels of the castle that were not open to regular tourists. Agent Carter had to admit to herself that she was growing more intrigued by the minute. 

“Ah here we are,” Loki exclaimed as he held his small torchlight to investigate a curious coat of arms displayed next to a medieval wooden beam. Hanging on the nearby wall was a tapestry, which appeared to be many centuries old, of St. George slaying the dragon. “Just as they reported.” He brought his hand up to touch the coat of arms. It was the standard form with a background of a white shield with St. George’s Red Cross displayed prominently in the middle. Displayed over top of the cross, in an X shape, were a sword and a key. Loki moved the ornament with his hand to reveal a small hole in the wall underneath it and then produced a key from his coat pocket that was quite ancient in appearance.

Peggy, astonished by the entire affair, had nothing to say as Loki turned the key. Immediately after, she heard and felt a portion of the stone wall break free from the foundation. Loki quickly went to the tapestry and pushed the wall behind it, revealing a secret passageway. Loki immediately went through the newly revealed doorway and Agent Carter followed closely behind.

After descending for sometime though the musty, earthy, air within a spiral stone stairwell, Peggy and Loki found themselves in an open area that was dark as pitch save for the small light of Loki’s hand torch. In the barely visible light she could see an old wooden torch hanging within its iron placing.

“Sir Mischief,” said Peggy. “Why don’t you use some of your ‘not-quite-a-god’ powers to light these torches? I’d like a better look around.”

Loki appeared to have winced at her comments. “Did you not hear me say that I am not a fire god? Even if I was, I do not have enough of my power to conjure on that level.”

“Then how did you change your shape back in London?”

“That was merely a simple illusion spell,” Loki replied. “And it caused me considerable strain to perform it.”

“That’s a shame,” Peggy replied before pulling the metal zippo lighter from her satchel. She struck the flint, causing a flame to light, and then touched the fire to the torch. The aged wood has been soaked in something flammable at one time for it caught to flame rather quickly and brought a warm glow to the room. Agent Carter did the same to the torch on the other side of the doorway to give off even more light.

What lay before them was a long open vaulted room, rectangular in shape. The ceiling was held up by fourteen pillars, seven to a side. Along the sides of the room sat what appeared to be some sort of benches of packed earth and stones that ran along the central aisle. At the far end of the room was an altar of stone below a marble image, carved in relief, of what looked to be St. George slaying the dragon. 

Loki looked at Peggy through narrowed eyes. “If you ever refer to me as ‘Sir Mischief’ again I will have you flogged.”

“Oh, is that a promise?” she asked with a smirk. After she said it she wished she hadn’t. It sounded too much like flirtatious banter. Agent Carter would certainly not flirt with a madman claiming to be a god. “How did you know about this place?” she asked, changing the subject.

“The good fellows at Ambrosia actually,” Loki replied as he investigated the vaulted room. “They had been guarding this secret chapel for centuries. When I came to the British forces with what I knew of the Nazi’s archaeological activities they put me into contact with your dear cousin’s little group. It took little convincing on their part to believe my stories concerning the quest for the Spear and the keys as they had known certain legends themselves and were already guarding the location of one of them.”

“Convenient for you,” Peggy replied.

“Yes I thought so,” said Loki with a smile.  
As they neared the back of the room, Peggy began to see the glittering of the flames on a piece of metal lying on the stone altar. As she reached the source she could see that it was in fact a rather plain-looking Roman-style gladius sword. She picked it up.  
“  
You dolt!” Loki yelled. “Put that back down!”

Before Peggy could get too angry at being called a dolt he had been proven correct. As she went to place the sword back, the sound of stone rubbing against stone could be heard within the altar as some sort of device had been triggered. Within seconds Peggy heard the unmistakable “thwip” sound of an arrow and she winced at her imminent death by booby-trap.

After a few seconds of not being dead Peggy opened her eyes to see the point of a metal arrowhead, the tip almost touching her nose. The hand holding the shaft belonged to Loki, who had quickly run to her side and stretched out his hand to catch the arrow before it found its mark. Apparently weakened by the effort, Loki fell to his knees and began to breath.

“I almost did not have the strength to save you from your own stupidity Agent Carter,” he said while catching his breath. “Perhaps I misjudged your intuitions after all.”  
Peggy had to admit to herself that Loki was right. She should have known better. She had read far too many Gothic novels not to know that such secret rooms hidden below old castles were full of booby-traps and other dangerous perils. She had made a rookie mistake. 

“Forgive me,” she said finally. “I shall have my wits about me from now on. Thank you for saving my life.” Peggy extended her hand to help Loki up. He looked at the gesture as if confused by it.

“Think nothing of it,” he said as he reluctantly took her hand and stood up. He probably did not want to hurt his pride by being helped up by a woman but was too weak to protest. 

“I thought Excalibur would look a little better than this,” said Peggy, still holding the gladius in her hand.

“That’s not Excalibur,” Loki replied. “It’s probably used in some sort of ritual within this chamber.”

“I see,” said Peggy as she looked around the room, thinking it over. “We need to solve a puzzle of some sort in order to find the sword’s resting place. Perhaps it has something to do with that image of St. George.”

“That’s not St. George,” Loki replied looking to the image of the armored knight slaying the dragon. “Rather, it is the inspiration for St. George- Siegfried himself. It was he who slew the dragon Fafnir, who guarded the resting place of Gungnir and the Andvari Treasure. Arthur took the legend home with him to Britain and over time it likely turned into your St. George.”

“Siegfried- patron saint of England,” said Peggy aloud. “That’s definitely what the people want to hear while at war with Germany.” 

“I should think not,” Loki replied. “Though what better force to protect a country from the Nazi hordes than another powerful German warlord?”  
She turned to address Loki. “What is the Andvari Treasure exactly?” asked Agent Carter. “You’ll have to forgive me. My Icelandic epic poetry isn’t what it once was.”

“The legends say it was a hoard of cursed dwarven gold.”  
“  
Not surprised. What was it really?”

“Oh there was a hoard of gold to be sure,” Loki replied. “The real treasure of Andvari, however, was the cursed Ring of Oberon.”

“Oberon?” asked Peggy, surprised. “As in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream?”

“Ah yes, the Bard,” Loki replied recalling something. “I always did enjoy William’s fanciful plays. Although, I preferred his more dramatic works myself. I helped him write Hamlet you know.” 

“You knew William Shakespeare?” asked Peggy in disbelief.

“Indeed I did,” said Loki. “In my youth I would often come to Midgard to ‘slum’ as it is called and take part in what you humans pass off as culture. I was only a lad at the time and had not yet reached the age of six hundred.” Loki appeared lost in a memory. “I did so enjoy William’s works. They were just not the same after he faked his death and went by Marlowe.”

“I knew it!” Peggy exclaimed. Many of her professors at University had claimed that Shakespeare and Marlowe were the same man.

“But I digress,” Loki continued. “Oberon was the king of Alfheim- one of the nine realms. In ages long past he had been an ally of my father’s. When his queen, Titania, fell in love with a man of Midgard she fled the elven realms and tried to live a mortal life. In his rage, Oberon killed his wife and her lover. He took the ring that Titania had given him on their wedding day, a symbol of the power of their love, and cursed it while drenched in her blood. The ring held the incredible power of the king of the elves, giving the bearer the ability to accomplish anything they wished but it came with a cost. The ringbearer would be forever cursed to walk alone, never feeling the power of love. It was a price that many would-be conquerors were willing to pay but to their folly. No one could truly love them and they were usually murdered by those closest to them.”

“Absolute power corrupts absolutely,” said Peggy.

“Perhaps,” Loki replied with a curious look in his eye. “Perhaps not. Real power is in the ability to control that power with a clever and intuitive mind.” He sighed at his own words. “Perhaps by accomplishing my quest I will be able to save Asgard’s future from the rule of my strong-willed, yet incompetent, brother.”  
Loki appeared lost in thought. Peggy wanted to pry into his musings but thought it best not to. Perhaps it was all true and the man was in fact a powerful being from a higher realm beyond the stars. If so, than from what she knew of the Loki of legend the man could not be trusted. Agent Carter would need to stay on her guard. He might be trapped in a mortal body but he was still quick and formidable. There could be no telling what Loki could do to her once he had what he wanted.  
Peggy decided to walk over to the marble carving of Siegfried to have a closer look. She took great care not to disturb anything that could be dangerous and simply inspected the image. Siegfried’s armor was definitely not that of the medieval knight that was typical of St. George. Instead, he wore a winged helmet and a breastplate of scale mail. He also wielded a sword instead of the traditional spear. The dragon, also, was not the typical depiction with wings but rather of the more serpentine variety as seen in the Orient. Something on the dragon’s body caught Peggy’s eye- a narrow rectangular hole.

“I think I’ve figured it out,” she declared. Before Loki had time to respond Peggy thrust the gladius that she held into the slot- it fit perfectly. Once in place she heard a ‘click’ sound of metal on stone and then felt mechanisms similar to the booby trap that she had triggered before. She expected the worst. 

Instead of flying arrows of death a stone slab emerged from under the marble carving. On it lay a folded cloth of red-satin roughly the length of a broadsword. Peggy lifted the bundle and held it in her arms as one would a baby in swaddling. She unwrapped the object to reveal a spectacularly crafted sword. The cross-guard and hilt were inlaid with gold, serpent-like ornamentations and a ruby cross decorated the pommel. Along the edge of the blade, which was made of a strange metal darker than standard steel, was engraved a long series of Nordic Runes.

“I’m holding bloody Excalibur,” Peggy said aloud.

“Nicely done Maggy,” said Loki as he came to stand beside her. “Perhaps Excalibur will indeed be bathed in blood before this quest is finished.”

Perhaps it would be her own blood that would bathe the blade, or perhaps the blood of Nazis. Although, it would be Loki’s blood on Excalibur if he insisted on calling her Maggy.


	5. Under the Mistletoe

“I’m still not entirely sure whether or not I have come to enjoy this beverage called ‘coffee,’ said Loki as he took another sip of the hot blackish liquid from the small metal cup.   
“This Turkish variety seems slightly thicker and bitterer than the one the Americans drink.”

“And here I thought Americans were the most thick and bitter,” replied Agent Carter who then snickered at her own quip. “I shall gladly stick to my tea, thank you very much.”

Not quite certain of the woman’s meaning Loki ignored her and looked out over the body of water known to the Midgardians as the Black Sea. He had to admit that the dusk view from the quaint café on the harbor was quite beautiful and relaxing- even with the sight of Russian warships. Sevastopol was apparently an important and strategic naval base after all. Loki wondered how long it would be until the Nazi forces destroyed it. He took another sip of coffee while he mused.

“I’ve decided that I like coffee,” Loki declared. “It’s much like the stouts of the British- dark and bitter.”

“Like your soul?” replied the woman with a smirk. Loki did not find her comment amusing. It sounded too similar to the jabs that his brother and his ignorant friends threw at him. But what did she know of him? She was simply making a joke.

“Ah, but does not the stout have a slightly sweet and creamy finish to it as well?”

Agent Carter’s smirk left her face only to be replaced by reddened embarrassment, although at what Loki could only guess. She then threw her napkin at him.

“I may not be much a lady but that was rather crude, even for your standards.”

When the realization dawned on Loki it was he who was then red with embarrassment. “Ah, forgive me my lady,” he said with a slight nod. “I did not mean that as it sounded.” He cleared his throat slightly. “I only meant that I may seem mostly dark and bitter but I do in fact have a notion of sweetness to my person.”

It was now Agent Carter who seemed embarrassed and awkward, likely because it was her mind that had immediately went to crude notions rather than the so-called god of mischief.

“Yes well…” She was looking anywhere but at Loki. He certainly did find this Midgardian woman entertaining. He might even be growing accustomed to her presence.   
Loki stood up and extended his hand towards Peggy. “Shall we be off then my dear Agent Carter?”

She ignored his hand and stood up as well. They quickly made their way towards the entrance of the café. A small group of Midgardians in some sort of ethnic dress were singing songs in the human language known as Greek. Peggy stopped to listen to them.

“Who would have thought I’d be spending the week before Christmas in Crimea,” she said after a moment.

As she continued to listen to the singers Loki’s gaze landed on the small clump of leaves hanging from the wooden beam of a doorway. Mistletoe. He could not tear his eyes from the small unassuming plant as he was reminded of the true reason he was stranded on Midgard- exiled for the death of his brother Balder. 

It had all been a joke, a jest that had gone horribly wrong. How was Loki to know that that ridiculous prophecy had any merit to it? He was still unconvinced. That the Allfather had gone to such lengths to make Baldur practically invulnerable and thus subvert Ragnorok was beyond his understanding. The drunken fools were all throwing weapons at Baldur for fun. How was he to know that the legend was true? That Mistletoe would kill Balder? In the end curiosity had gotten the better of Loki. Even though he had taken precautions and given the arrow he had made to poor old blind Hoder, he was still found out… 

“I’m not going to kiss you if that’s what you’re waiting for,” said Agent Carter, bringing Loki back to his present reality.

“Excuse me?” asked a confused Loki. “I wasn’t expecting you to.” He smirked. “At least not yet.”

“Don’t be cheeky,” she replied. “You were lingering under the mistletoe. One can only assume the reason.”

“Ah yes, a Midgardian holiday custom. In Asgard mistletoe is regarded as a symbol of death.” That the death of one man would bring about the destruction of Asgard and the death of the Aesir…Loki refused to believe it. 

The two of them left the café and entered onto the street. Light powder snow peppered the roads and sidewalks as the streetlamps were now coming on to lighten their December evening stroll.

“Explain to me again why you think one of the keys is here in Sevastopol.”

“As you wish,” replied Loki with a smirk. “Though I’m certain all of this was in your dossier.”

“I remembered the important bits,” she replied. “Just go on.”

“As I said before,” he began as they continued walking along the winter streets of Crimea. “The six keys are in fact the six runeswords that once belonged to Siegfried and his brotherhood of warlords. We have Excalibur, the sword of Arthur Pendragon, while the Germans already have three.”

“Which legendary swords do the Nazis have in their possession?” asked Peggy.

“The first sword that they found was Gram- the sword of Siegfried. And I helped them do it.” Loki frowned. The Germans were already far ahead of him and it was his own fault. Had he not trusted Eckart and his fool Thule Society he would perhaps already be in possession of Gungnir and on his way back to Asgard.   
He had thought to use their knowledge and resources to research Siegfried and the locations of the swords. Once they found Gram and had all that they needed from Loki, Dietrich betrayed him.

“You didn’t know that they would steal your powers and trap you,” Agent Carter replied, bringing Loki from his musings.

“Indeed,” he replied. The woman didn’t need to know the truth just yet. His story was serving its purpose. She and her British allies need not know that he had already been practically powerless and abandoned when Dietrich pulled him from the Bifrost’s passage. Carter also did not need to know that he answered for his betrayal at Loki’s hands.  
“Once they had the runesword of Siegfried, Dietrich and his Thule brethren instigated a riot in Munich, trying to seize power.”

“The Beer Hall Putsch,” the woman interrupted and Loki nodded.

“With my help the authorities were able to thwart their attempts and the leaders were all incarcerated. Eckart faked an illness to be released early while Hitler and his fellow conspirators waited out their sentences. Dietrich died a month later and his fellow Thule brethren decided to rethink their plans while in prison.”

“Hitler decided to play by the rules and let the people give him the power he needed.”

“Exactly,” Loki continued. “The Thule brethren officially dissolved their order and reorganized, waiting until they had more political power to resume their quest for the keys and the Spear. Hitler and Hess wrote Mein Kampf to influence the hearts and minds of the German people and then created the Schutzstaffel to be the Imperial Guard of their Third Reich. A decade later they seized power and the rest you are familiar with.”

“The message I decoded said they found two more keys,’ said Agent Carter. “Which ones could they have found?”

“From my initial conclusions, and Hitler’s invasion of Poland, I can safely assume one to be Winnili- the sword of Agelmund, a powerful Slavic warlord who took his people into Italy and founded the Lombard Kingdom.” Loki laughed to himself. “Agelmund claimed to be descended from Odin himself and renamed his people ‘the Longbeards’ in the Allfather’s honor.”

“Was he really?”

“Why Maggie Carter,” said Loki. “Is the unreasonably skeptical British agent starting to finally believe that I am who I say I am?”

“I’m not sure what to believe quite honestly,” she replied. “You did find Excalibur and you do have rather quick and amazing reflexes. I’m open to the possibility that you are Loki of Asgard.”

“That’s all I can ask for I suppose,” said Loki with a smile. “As to your question- it wasn’t dear Odin that sired the line of Agelmund, it was my mother- Frigga.”

“Oh dear,” said Peggy playfully at the scandal. “A wee bit of revenge ‘slumming’ on the part of the queen?”

“Something like that I’m sure,” Loki replied. The thought of his mother having a scandalous tryst with a Midgardian made his skin crawl. She had always seemed above it. “Anyway, Agelmund claimed to have seen my mother in a vision that told him to take his people from their homeland and journey south. She then apparently sent him to Siegfried, likely to anger my father further. Once the Lombard kingdom fell to the Frankish king called Charlemagne, the descendants of Agelmund fled Italy and returned to the land of their origins, taking the runesword with them.”

“Poland I assume.”

“Yes exactly,” said Loki. “I’m certain much of the reason for Hitler’s war is to obtain the keys of Siegfried and gain Gungnir’s power. The other sword in Nazi possession is likely Nagelring- the sword of Theodoric the Great, the legendary Dietrich von Bern of Medieval German romance literature. He used the sword’s power to unite his people and found a kingdom of Ostrogoths. The blade was said to have been held in the vaults of the Holy Roman Empire for over a thousand years. It seems Ahnenerbe finally found it.”

“Who are they exactly?” asked Peggy. “I’ve come across their messages before. It means ‘Ancestral Inheritance.’”

“On the surface they are a Nazi Antiquities division but in reality they are the reformed Thule Society, overseen by that upstart Himmler and led by a madman named Markus Gottwald.”

“I think I’ve heard of Gottwald,” said Agent Carter. “My uncle took me to a lecture of his once. He believed that a race of powerful angel-like beings once ruled an ancient prehistoric kingdom in the Nordic Sea using a mythical power source he called Vrill. You’re right, he is a madman.”

“His views are not that far off I’m afraid,” Loki replied. “A renegade faction of Asgardians in my grandfather’s time left our realm and settled on Midgard. What Gottwald calls Vrill is simply a common power source made with Asgardian alchemy.”

They soon reached their destination- a small antiquities gallery located close to the ruins of the ancient Greek harbor city. “Ah, here we are.”

“And which sword are we supposedly going to find here?” asked Peggy. “You never did answer my initial question.”

“Savash,” Loki replied. 

“War?” asked Agent Carter. He was impressed that the lady even had knowledge of the language of the Turks. 

“Indeed. It is also known as the Sword of Mars- the sword once wielded by Atilla the Hun. It was imbued with Gungnir’s power by Etzel, Atilla’s son by Honoria- the Roman princess and bride that he was refused. After the death of Attila Etzel was treated as an outcast by both Romans and Huns. Once the Hun Empire shattered and scattered to the four winds a powerful Etzel picked up some of the pieces and ruled from the fortress that he built at this very harbor.”

“The sword of Atilla the Hun,” said Peggy. “I certainly wasn’t expecting that.”

Loki took a look inside the window. The curator was getting ready to close for the evening. They would need to be quick.

When they went inside the old Midgardian man gave them his attention.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Loki replied. “I understand that you have a few items unearthed from the fortress ruins that date to the late Hunnic Period.”

“Indeed we do sir,” he replied. “Let me show you.”

After a few moments the elderly man escorted Loki and Peggy towards a section devoted to the days of Pre-Byzantine Crimea. Among the various weapons, military regalia, and other baubles were several busts and statues of various individuals. Among the stone vessels was what Loki was seeking- an ornate marble case about the length of a sword. His research had determined this to be the likely resting place of Shavash. His only qualm about simply killing the old man and taking the sword would be Agent Carter’s reaction. Loki felt that her usefulness was invaluable to his present circumstances. It would be a shame to upset her.

Peggy must have seen in his eyes that the marble case was what he had been searching for and she went in for a closer inspection.

“It’s empty,” she said and Loki felt the anger and disappointment rise inside of him.

“What?” he asked, more out of reaction than a desire to know. “It’s empty?” He too went to stand by Agent Carter’s side.

“It says here that this particular box once held something of considerable value but that its contents were seized when the city was sacked by Vladimir the Great around 980. Most of the treasures are still currently housed in Novgorod within the Cathedral of Holy Wisdom.”

“Odin’s good eye…” Loki swore in anger.

“Well Comrade Loki,” said Agent Carter in a playful tone. “I suppose we shall be spending Christmas in Russia.”


	6. Holy Wisdom

There was a chill in the air as they walked the streets of Novgorod that Christmas Eve and Peggy was fairly certain it had nothing to do with it winter in Russia.   
No trees adorned with ribbons and lights, no restaurants and taverns filled with well-wishers and revelers, no groups of carolers on to their next location, no…life. It was a town of frozen death. 

It was the first time that Agent Carter had visited Britain’s red ally. She certainly didn’t expect the holiday cheer that was present in most of the West, but the complete lack of any religious celebration was unnerving- it made an already cold city that much more frigid. Could such a place ever feel warmth again?  
By contrast, Loki of Asgard seemed quite content with the atmosphere. It was almost as if Christmas decorations caused him some sort of emotional pain and he was finally free from it for the time being.

“I take it you are not a fan of Christmas,” said Peggy.

“Not particularly,” Loki replied. “I much prefer Yule- when we Asgardians celebrate the death of each year with a wake of great revelry.” A slight smile came to his face.   
“Each year we don the black and feast for days until Midwinter, when one is chosen to lead the Wild Hunt and ride across the skies of Midgard to usher in the birth of the New Year.”

“What, no Christmas Crackers?” Peggy replied with a smirk. 

Loki shook his head. “I still do not understand the appeal of those things. There is nothing of worth or entertainment within them and you insist on wearing those ridiculous paper crowns afterwards.”

Peggy shrugged her shoulders. “It’s just something we do. I try not to understand British tradition.”

“I’ve been alive for almost a thousand years and I’ve yet to comprehend why your people do the things that they do.”

“Best not to try,” said Peggy with a smile.

Within moments their destination came into view ahead- the Cathedral of Holy Wisdom. The large church, built of white stone, appeared to be almost 40 meters in height and featured five domes as was typical of the Russian Orthodox tradition. 4 of the domes were painted silver while the tallest one in the middle was painted gold. With the white austere walls, narrow windows, the church was reminiscent of the Romanesque architecture of the cathedrals of Western Europe rather than the churches of the Greek East with their vaulted dome ceilings.

When they neared the church Peggy was not surprised that it had been converted into a museum by the Soviets, having outlawed most forms of traditional religion in favor of their communist atheism. Despite the grimness of it, Agent Carter recognized that the church would have been filled with people on Christmas Eve that night in the days before the revolution. An empty museum served their purposes to a greater extent.

Before them stood large and imposing bronze metal doors, greatly adorned with various biblical scenes, and Agent Carter was left wondering how they were going to manage entry into the church-turned-museum. Loki produced a small device that looked sort of like a strange key and inserted it into the medieval keyhole. Whether it was magic or technology, it unlocked something and Loki heaved open the large heavy doors and Peggy followed him inside the church. 

She switched on her hand torch to look around. The museum was typical to those in England, though with a large amount of Soviet propaganda strewn about.  
Loki was looking over a small pamphlet he had picked up. “According to this, what we seek is in the treasury library of Yaroslav the Wise in the galleries of the great upper dome.”

Peggy nodded and the two made their way to the upper galleries. When they neared the treasure library she began to hear muffled voices accompanied by the unmistakable sounds of looting.

“Bullocks,” she cursed. “Hopefully we’re not too late.”

“That all depends on who reaches sword first Maggy,” Loki replied. “Stay here a moment would you?”

Before Peggy could protest, Loki quickly walked into the treasure room and said “good evening” in Russian. She couldn’t see the reactions of the others but she was not surprised to quickly hear the sounds of guns cocking. Wishing to know what was going on, Peggy took a small mirror and a ball of sticky putty from her pack, then attached it to the end of the knife that she kept in the elastic of her skirt. She edged her new vision device into place. 

Loki was now surrounded by 5 armed men, who appeared to be dressed in Russian military uniforms. They had dropped their bags of loot to the ground in order to turn their guns on him.

“Lovely night for a trip to the museum wouldn’t you say?” he continued in Russian. One of the men looked confused and then stole a glance at one of his equally confused comrades. Switching to German Loki said, “For a supposed master race, you must have had some substantially ugly mothers.” The men’s confusion quickly turned to anger and Peggy was then fairly certain that they were Nazis in Soviet garb.

“One wonders,” Loki continued in German. “How were five Deutchlanders able to sneak into Novgorod without being able to speak the language?”

Peggy’s attention was drawn away from the scene by a blade of a sword at her throat. Her unknown assailant took her in his arms and held her so that she couldn’t see him and proceeded to force Agent Carter into the treasure room.

“With my help of course,” said her assailant. He spoke in English with a slight hint of a Russian accent, only audible to Peggy because she had studied the language. “Why Loki of Asgard, it has been quite a while hasn’t it. I assume you are looking for this?”

The man shoved Agent Carter towards Loki as he no longer needed the sword to her throat with five armed men in the room. Now able to see him, the man sported a full yet trimmed beard of dark black hair to match his equally dark eyes and hair. He also wore a black suit that contrasted to pale, almost corpse like, white skin. The sword that he had held at her throat appeared to be a beautifully crafted, much like Excalibur but with a curved blade, with various runes engraved along it. It was War- the Runesword of Etzel the Hun and the key they sought. 

“Grigori,” Loki replied. “I’d like to say that it is good to see you again but we both know I’m a god of lies.”

The bearded man smirked and then turned to Peggy. “Forgive my rudeness my lady,” he said to her with a bow. While bowed low he lifted his head up to look at Agent Carter with the smile of the Devil himself. “I am Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin.”


End file.
